


Dust Out the Demons

by bluesamutra



Series: Dust [6]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesamutra/pseuds/bluesamutra
Summary: Elton solves all ills
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Dust [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190777
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Dust Out the Demons

Mulder sloshes another inch of Cuervo Gold into his glass and knocks it back in one, twisting his face as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. He's not really a drinker but after the last couple of weeks it seemed like the thing to do, and the only liquor in his apartment was a bottle of tequila that had been sitting unopened and gathering dust at the back of a cupboard for who knows how long.

When he'd woken this morning it hadn't been a surprise to find the other side of the bed empty. He'd lain on his back staring at his bedroom ceiling berating himself for being a total fuckup. He hardly knew where to start. He'd cajoled Scully into sleeping with him three times and even after she'd told him she didn't want to put their partnership at risk he'd begged her to come to his apartment for one last roll in the hay. He'd seen the reluctance and doubt in her eyes even as she'd nodded her consent and followed him upstairs. So she came twice? Scully was an A+ student in everything she did; it didn't mean shit in this context, not when she'd started crying as he climaxed inside her. And to cap it all off, did he talk to her about it? Apologize? No, he left her lying in the wet spot and fell asleep.

It was only when he'd finally heaved his aching body to a sitting position that he realized there was a note on the pillow next to him. He'd almost been too afraid to read it and had swallowed convulsively as he reached for the folded sheaf. There were only two lines on it and holding the page at arm's length, he'd had to squint to read it without his glasses. 

I need some time. S

On the positive side, this had been progress; tangible proof that he hadn't in fact imagined this latest encounter. Moreover, Scully's note, whilst succinct in the extreme, left room for the possibility that she might decide a relationship with him was worth pursuing. On the other hand, she had already admitted she thought he couldn't be trusted with her heart. More time could just give her the opportunity to reaffirm her concerns.

Groaning, Mulder had hauled his ass out of bed and pulled on some sweats and his sneakers, figuring he'd go for a jog and try to run off his frustration. 

After three miles of slipping and sliding round the half- ploughed streets of Alexandria he'd conceded defeat and slunk back to his apartment with a venti mochaccino and the New York Times. The rest of the day had passed in a slow blur of Sunday supplements, laundry and an undignified thirty minutes where he'd lain in bed to rest and spent most of the time with his face buried in the pillow Scully had used, trying to recapture her scent.

And now here he is, slouched on his sofa with a rapidly emptying bottle of tequila listening to Elton John and getting more maudlin by the minute.

He's just about to pour another measure when there's a knock at the door. His gaze swivels to the scratched mahogany as though looking at the door for long enough will tell him who's on the other side of it. But even without x-ray vision he knows there's only one person it could be.

The door creaks ominously as he swings it open, an unfortunate side effect of having been kicked in one too many times, to reveal Scully standing in his hallway. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold and a few rogue snowflakes melt into her hair and coat, leaving dark spots on the brown suede. 

"Scully," he intones, already regretting the tequila and the sluggishness it's left him with. He drags a hand through his hair and then opens the door fully gesturing her in.

If he had to describe her expression, he would say she looks surprised to find herself in his doorway. She runs her thumbnails over her fingertips nervously but she shoves her hands in her coat pockets as she steps into the room and turns back to face him as he closes the door. "Mulder. I wanted... Am I interrupting you?" Her voice seems higher than normal.

"No," he says a little too emphatically, "I was just.. reading." He realizes that there isn't a book in sight, but Scully doesn't seem to notice as her eyes dart around his living room and land on the bottle of tequila and empty glass. 

"Have you been drinking?" she asks breathlessly, and a little needlessly given the evidence at hand.

Mulder swallows against the sour taste of alcohol in the back of his throat, "Uh yeah. Would you like one?"

Scully's head whips round to face him but she doesn't quite meet his eyes, and her answer is addressed to his collarbone, "No."

The pump on the fish tank whirrs in the background and every so often the radiator in the living room gurgles as air circulates lethargically through the system. At once, Mulder is aware of the state of the place, a pile of clean laundry covers the desk, the discarded New York Times in a badly re-folded pile in the corner. In the dim light of the lamp, he can see a thick coating of dust on the coffee table. Suddenly he wishes he hadn't spent half the afternoon sniffing her pillow.

"Do you want to sit?" 

Scully looks awkwardly around the room as though considering whether she can reasonably continue to stand, but then thinks better of it and perches on the edge of his sofa. After a beat he joins her and they sit awkwardly side by side.

"Elton John?" she looks at him sideways, a note of amusement curling in her voice, and her tone is a more typical alto.

"Second only to the King, Scully," he replies, flushed with embarrassment and wishing the CD was at least playing 'Benny and the Jets' or 'Crocodile Rock' or almost anything other than 'Your Song'. 

Something approximating a smile crosses her lips and her gaze flicks back to the fish tank. The lush curve of her cheek in the dim lamp lit apartment is entrancing and he watches her as she stares unblinkingly at the fish, the glow from the tank reflecting in her eyes. God, but she is beautiful.

Another moment passes and the anticipation is killing him; he finds himself prodding her, "What did you want to talk about?"

She looks startled but quickly covers it. "I uh, had lunch with my mother today," her eyes flash to his and then away again. "And she said some things."

His mind races over the avenues of conversation Scully might have with her mother that could relate to him. Some of the possibilities make his stomach clench anxiously. He thinks he gets on all right with Mrs. Scully; she's like the cool mom of your friend who always had cookies and full-fat milk and you went to for advice about girls. His interaction with her has mostly been contained to hospitals and last year, when Scully had gone into remission, they would cross paths most days in Scully's apartment when he came to visit her in the afternoons. 

Mrs. Scully doesn't seem to harbor any animosity towards him for the shitstorm he'd brought on her daughter, but she might just be too well mannered to let it show. Scully liked to play the working-class Irish Catholic card but her mother had been East Coast elite when the Mulders were still striving to be olraytniks. He knew she'd sailed through college and med school without needing a loan, and now she managed to live in a 2-bed refurb in Georgetown and fund a Ralph Lauren addiction on a GS-12 salary.

But that was all by the by if Mrs. Scully had finally seen sense and told her daughter she needed to get Mulder out of her life. He's starting to scare himself, and he nudges Scully's knee with his own to encourage her to continue and put him out of his misery.

"She ah, she said I needed to be honest with you," Scully declares rubbing her hands over her charcoal slacks.

Mulder watches the nervous slide of her hands, the irritating TV in his mind flickering back to the previous night when she had done the same thing. Right before his hands joined hers and he took her clothes off. Swallowing hard and blinking away the vision, he refocuses himself on the present, where he is still in real danger of being given the boot.

"Okay..." he encourages half-heartedly.

"Mulder," she begins and her eyes widen briefly in self- reproach as she falters. She lets a deep breath out through her nose and tries again, "What I said yesterday on the plane about not wanting to lose you as a partner..."

The gap stretches out whilst Scully tries to find the right words, and Mulder feels his heart stutter in his chest; Scully is never lost for words. His instinct is to jump in, fill the gap with a plea not to give up on him but in an uncharacteristic burst of discretion he keeps his mouth shut, and reaches over to clasp her hand in his. Her skin is cold and dry in his clammy grip and they both look at the way his hand dwarfs hers. A distantly dawning revelation suggests this is a metaphor for their partnership and her words about him ditching her for the next big thing gnaw at the edge of his awareness. He hasn't given her a lot of reason to believe differently recently.

"Mulder, we've been through so much together..." she trails off, frustration at her inability to articulate choking her voice. She pulls her hand from his and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose.

"And it all comes down to trust, Scully," he supplies, placing a tentative hand on her knee, desperate to connect with her, to make her believe him. "I trust you; I trust *in* you."

A breath catches in her throat and she turns her face from him, her eyes filling with tears as she looks to the ceiling in a vain effort to stop them from falling. A single tear slips down her dewy cheek and she brushes it away impatiently with the pads of her fingers.

"Scully I told you that you'd saved me, that you'd kept me honest," he swallows against a lump in his throat and lifts his hand from her knee to catch her tear- dampened fingers in his. "I said you made me a whole person, and maybe since then I haven't given you a lot of reason to believe me. But Scully: I believe in you." Emotion colors his dull monotone and they both watch his thumb run circles against the creamy skin of her thenar. "I'm sorry I gave you a reason to doubt that." 

The CD player whirrs to a stop and the ensuing silence is palpable. He doesn't know what else to say; laid bare already, anything else would just be trite. The sound of his breathing seems deafening in the stuffy room and he can hear the rasp of his thumb on her hand.

"I don't want to keep doing what we've been doing," she admits softly, voice cracking the silence as Mulder's chest constricts. 

"You want to stop?" he breathes, searching her face for the answer as the seconds tick by and the radiator gurgles. He wants to believe he can go back to the way they were before, that just being partners will be enough for him, but honestly he isn't sure he can. Loving Scully, like heroin, is moreish. It isn't even about the sex, though that was sublime, it was the fact that even when they were trying to fuck without feeling, he still felt closer to her than he had ever felt to anyone before. Scully's hair rustles against the collar of her coat as she turns to him and her piercing blue eyes, still glossy with tears, rise to meet his.

"I want more," she whispers.

"You -" this time he is the one at a loss for words as he stares into her eyes and sees the eddying emotion. At once, his heart soars and his stomach plummets. How fucking typical of him to start doubting himself the very second he gets what he wants, but Scully is sitting before him with fear and hope turning her eyes black and he knows he only has once chance at this. He mentally slaps down the Doubting Thomas who flits around the back of his mind whispering 'can't' and squeezes Scully's hand. 

His other hand finds its way to her face, and she presses her cheek into his palm, eyes cinching shut as another tear escapes and tracks down his hand. He smooths his thumb across her mouth and her lips form a kiss against his finger. God, he hopes he doesn't fuck this up. 

Pulling her toward him, Mulder presses a kiss to her cheek and buries his face in the crook of her neck, squeezing his own eyes shut as the warmth of her body envelopes him. She smells of shampoo and leather and ozone and he kisses the soft skin behind hear ear as she wraps her arms tightly around him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. He hears the soft hiccup of a stifled sob and pulls back, cupping Scully's face in his hands. Her eyes are closed and tears dampen her lashes and he kisses them away like he did last night hoping this will be the last time he causes her to cry.

A ghost of a smile tremors across her lips as she opens her eyes, and like looking over the edge of a cliff, Mulder finds himself leaning forward until he can feel the warmth of her breath on his lips and his nose brushes hers. "I love you," he murmurs against her mouth and her hands are in his hair, drawing him forward those final millimeters until their lips are pressed together and his nose is nestled in the lush curve of her cheek. Her tongue dips into his mouth and he pulls her body against him, feeling his skin buzz everywhere they touch.

Scully's fingernails scratch his scalp and the sensation makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Her breath is warm on his cheek and as her tongue slides gently against his, Mulder can taste peppermint and that underlying flavor he has come to recognize as Scully herself. He rubs his thumbs against her the soft skin in front of her ears, feeling the muscles of her jaw flex under his hands. 

Drawing back, Scully presses her forehead against his, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "I don't want to lose you Mulder," she admits with closed eyes.

Mulder lets a breath out through his nose and withdraws to press a kiss against her forehead. Scully's eyes open and search his. No words beyond what he has already said will give her peace of mind; only time and action will prove his love, but he hopes that his commitment shows in his eyes. After a moment she nods a single soft dip of her chin and her fingers smooth the soft hair behind his ears. 

Mulder rises from the creaky sofa and extends a hand to her, "Come to bed," he says simply, and she takes his hand and lets him lead her to his bedroom.

The air in the bedroom is several degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment and goose bumps rise on his arms as he stands on the opposite side of the bed from Scully and peels his t-shirt over his head. After a beat, Scully shrugs out of her coat and drapes it over his dresser. Her grey button down sweater joins it and she looks at him across the expanse of his rumpled bed, her flushed chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Letting his gaze caress her body, Mulder's groin tightens in anticipation. Obsidian eyes watch him work the buttons of his fly and when she finally drags her gaze back to his face, he is amused at the flutter of embarrassment he sees. 

Shedding the rest of their clothes they slide beneath cool sheets that still smell of her perfume and lie on their sides facing. Scully cups her hands together by her cheek and watches him with unblinking eyes. He traces a finger over the curve of her cheek and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers cupping the back of her head.

For a few long seconds his lips hover above hers and then he brushes against her mouth in several small kisses, his body taut with anticipation and their eyes locked together. It reminds him of the day they kissed on her sofa when she got out of the hospital last year, when he had been so thankful to have her alive and warm in his arms. Then, like now, the chaste kisses stoked a fire within him and he covers her mouth with his, tongue delving between her teeth. Scully's fingers thread through his hair, holding him close and her nipples rake tantalizingly against his chest. He grasps one breast in his hand, pinching the nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger and she gasps into his mouth, pushing her breast into his hand. He kneads the soft flesh and presses a trail of kisses from her swollen lips to her neck.

Her fingers trail down his side and over his hip, nails scratching lightly at the taught muscles of his ass, and Mulder feels his spine tingle. Her hand slips over his hip and the tip of her index finger glides along the smooth skin of his cock and circles the sensitive tip. 

"Jesus!" he hisses into her shoulder as a rush of blood fills his burgeoning erection. It's the first time she's ever touched him there and his nerve endings are on fire. So many times he imagined her caressing him like this, but the reality is almost overwhelming, and when her hand closes around his cock like she would grip her gun, he thrusts shamelessly into the tight fist of her hand. 

Scully's grazes her teeth over his earlobe and for a few thrusts he revels in her touch, his breath coming in ragged pants. "Oh God," he grinds out as her tongue slips into his ear and she brings another hand between them to cup his balls. This is amazing, her strong hands feel so different to his own and the knowledge that this is Scully makes the sensation even sweeter. After a moment he reaches between them and clasps her hand in his, pulling her away. "I'm close," he whispers as his lips find hers and she smiles against his mouth.

Holding her hand against his chest, he slides his other hand down her waist and thigh, settling her leg over his hip and opening her to him. His erection presses against the butter-soft skin at her apex and she is slick and hot against him. The head of his cock slips haphazardly over Scully's clit and he smiles when a low groan slips from her throat and she thrusts her hips forward trying to increase the contact. 

"Impatient?" He rotates his hips so that his penis slides in sloppy circles over her center and her free hand clutches at his shoulder, nails digging into the muscle there.

"Mmm," she exhales, "I've been thinking about this all day."

Her admission floods his groin with fresh arousal and he runs his hand along her thigh to pull her closer, pressing against her entrance, "Well I hope I can meet your expectations."

"Oh God..." she moans as he slides into her slowly and he can feel every ripple of her sex around his throbbing cock as she adjusts to his presence. 

"Yeah," he breathes, when he is sheathed deeply inside her. Lacking eloquence, it's all he can do not to let his eyes roll back in his head and pound into her like a madman. She feels fucking amazing.

His right hand cups her ass and holds her tight against him, and they thrust together slowly and shallowly, his cock barely removed from her body before he slides back in. He can scarcely tell where he ends and she begins, and the wet sounds of their bodies sliding together and her breathy little moans are fast pushing him to the edge.

"Harder, Mulder," she urges breathlessly, snaking her tongue out to trace his lips as she strains against him. He sucks her tongue into his mouth and jams his hips into hers as hard as he can, fingers biting into the ivory flesh of her hip. Their breath is coming in harsh pants as they grind together and neon shadows play behind his eyelids as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure. He knows in just a few more rolls of his hips he will be done and he only hopes that she's close because nothing could stop him from coming now.

Mulder slides out a little further this time so he can really slam home and Scully squeezes his fingers with the hand he has clasped to his chest and her other slides from his shoulder to dig into his hair, "Oh right there! Oh God, don't stop!" 

As if he could. He jerks into her and drags her hard against him once, twice, three times and he barely registers that she's coming, her internal walls pulsing around him before he's crying out her name and emptying himself into her. The neon shadows are like fireworks behind his eyelids.

"Jesus!" he croaks when he can breathe again and she chuffs a breathless laugh while her lips tease the cooling sweat on his clavicle.

Scully rolls onto her back, pulling him with her and he settles his head on her chest, arm curling around her. The last three weeks, and the half bottle of Cuervo he downed earlier, are catching up on him and he can feel his eyelids drooping. He rubs his cheek against Scully's breast and draws in a deep breath, fighting the drowsiness even as it sucks him in. 

"I love you, Scully," he mumbles on an exhale, eyes drifting closed. Her arms tighten around him and he relaxes into her embrace.

"Sleep, Mulder," she hums in his ear, her voice a lullaby. "I'll be here in the morning."


End file.
